Just Tell Me
by Sarcastic Texan
Summary: My idea of Annabel and Owen's future. When Annabel becomes pregnant and Owen finds out before she can tell him, how will he react? From Annabel's PoV.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Howdy. I fell in love with Sarah Dessen's book, _Just Listen_, and I've always thought about how Annabel and Owen's lives would turn out, so I wrote a story about it. Don't think or judge. Just read. (And review, please.)**

It was simple math.

Addition.

A plus.

A positive.

And so how could I be so stupid?

How was I going to tell Owen?

My heart was racing and, as I stared at the little blue plus that appeared on all three of my tests, I caught myself as I absentmindedly raising a hand to my stomach.

I wanted to cry—weather they'd be tears of joy or of some other pent-up emotion that was welling inside of me, I didn't know.

Before I could decide, I heard the door swing open and close, and then the jingle-jangle of keys dropping onto a counter.

"Babe, I'm home."

Owen.

I sucked in a breath—panicking, I shoved all three tests into my drawer on the right side of the bathroom vanity and straightened my clothes, trying to compose myself.

"Annabel?" he called again.

"I-I'm in here." I said, as I twisted the knob and met him in the hallway.

He leaned down and kissed my cheek, but I found myself staying rooted to the spot, frozen in place.

The same words just kept running through my head.

_I'm pregnant._

"Are you okay?" Owen asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I said quickly. "Um, what's for dinner?"

I had to talk about something—anything—else. Something to get my mind off of the fact that I'd had another human being growing inside of me for the past three weeks without my knowledge.

"I was thinking… breakfast?" he said, going to the kitchen.

"Sounds great." I said.

I numbly sat down on our well-worn leather couch and stared at the wall, listening as he got two bowls out of a cabinet. He filled them with cereal and milk, and then brought one over to me, setting his on the coffee table and pulling a CD case out of his back pocket.

"I found some great new stuff today." He said with an excited smile, heading over to the stereo system that dominated an entire wall of our apartment.

He popped the CD into the slot and after a moment of empty silence, something with a bouncy beat and some throaty tuba tones came over the speakers. He cranked the volume up and joined me on the couch, placing an arm around my shoulders and pulling me close.

"How was work?" I asked mechanically.

"Good." He replied.

He slurped his cereal from the bowl as I silently maneuvered my spoon in a circle, barely touching the food.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine. I think I'll just turn in early tonight."

Before Owen could say anything else, I rinsed my bowl in the kitchen sink and wandered into my bedroom, sinking into the comforter and curling onto my side with the lights off.

It was rare that I slept alone, because more often than not, I fell asleep in Owen's bed, talking with him into the late hours of the night. Sometimes he fell asleep in mine, his head on my lap, listening to music as I read a book or listened with him.

We'd been living together for almost a year. After high school, I'd become a regular DJ at the radio station and had taken a job at the World of Waffles.

Owen was also still a DJ, although he'd finally gotten a job at his favorite music store, PLUG.

We'd bought an apartment together—something with two rooms, good acoustics, and enough space for Owen's music collection. The building was a crumbling three-story red-brick that I called "rustic" and Owen called "affordable".

I was incredibly, undeniably, almost intolerably, happy.

We still had our separate things—like my side of the bathroom vanity, for instance—but almost everything else had become "ours", or something we shared.

Like the stash of rainy day money, kept in an old jelly jar on the kitchen counter—not "mine" or "his", but "ours".

And in the mornings—sometimes I'd be taking a shower while he brushed his teeth, or vice versa. _Sharing_ the space.

We had settled into a routine so easily, and everything about this new life just felt _right._

But then came Owen's twentieth birthday, almost a month ago. We'd gone out to dinner with Clarke, Rolly, his mother, and Mallory, but as soon as we got home, we'd been glued to each other.

I knew he'd wanted a more... _physical_connection for a long time, but he'd been so patient with me, so loving. He knew that after Will Cash, I was a little hesitant for action.

I was sighing, thinking of all of the changes a baby would bring, when Owen came in and sat down next to me on my bed.

"What's wrong, babe?" he asked, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder and trying to meet my eyes.

"Nothing." I replied coldly.

He was still doubtful, but he said nothing. Instead, he shifted his position, kicking off his heavy boots and shrugging his jacket off of his shoulders, trying to fill the void of silence that had fallen between us.

Owen finally spoke.

"Is this about…" He hesitated. "About what happened on my birthday?"

_Yes!_ I wanted to scream. _We had sex and I was stupid because my birth control didn't work and I should have made you use a condom!_

But I danced around the truth—something I hadn't done with him in a very, very long time. It felt wrong, but I just wasn't ready to tell him. Not yet.

"No." I answered. "I'm glad we did it—I'm just tired, okay?"

This was not a lie—I was, in fact, _very_ happy that we'd did it, although I wasn't sure how I felt about the effects of our consummation.

He nodded, but instead of getting up, he laid down next to me.

His presence was comforting. His broad form curled around mine, and he swung his arm over my body, his fingers intertwining with mine.

I was fascinated by the way my body fit so easily into his, and how comforting his daunting presence could be when it was just the two of us, in the dark.

Owen had always been my shield. He was sheltering me, and once I'd tilted my head back and pecked him on his cheek, I waited until his breathing steadied and I was sure he was asleep.

The music in the other room was still on, but I was glad. It played over the sound of my sobs in the darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I don't own _Just Listen_. This was never meant to be a long story, so the next chapter will probably be the last. A big thanks to everyone who left me such kind and thoughtful reviews-Ya'll rock! Without further ado, here's Chapter Two. Review, por favor!**

I awoke to a cold space behind me on the bed and angry sounds—the screaming electric guitars and frantic drumbeats of _Muse_, one of Owen's newest discoveries. Owen called it "emotional music"—he compared it to the way he felt inside when he was _really_ angry, ready to Hulk-smash the next person that opened their mouth. I knew him well enough to know that he reserved _Muse_ for bad days, and briefly wondered what could be wrong before remembering the events of the previous evening.

With a gasp, I sat up in bed and rushed into the living room, where Owen sat on the couch, staring at the ceiling as he seethed.

"Owen, are you—"

"You forgot to put back my nail clippers, Annabel." he cut me off, his tone harsh. "And I found them in your drawer with _these._" My fears were confirmed when he held up one of my tests, the little blue plus visible even from a distance.

"I—"

"You _what,_ Annabel? Did you really think you could hide this from me?" Owen was clearly fighting to control his rage.

"Just _listen_, okay?" Annabel said, voice raised. Owen glared but remained silent. "I found out yesterday night, just before you got home, so it's not like I've been hiding this for very long. And before you go off on me about keeping secrets, _think_. Put yourself in _my_ shoes."

I walked over to the sound system and adjusted the volume knob so that the music was barely a whisper in the background, then perched myself on the coffee table, taking both of his hands in mine and leveling with his gaze.

"I'm scared. I'm nineteen, and even though I don't know anything about my future, I _do _know that I want to spend it with you."

His eyes softened, just a little bit.

"I'm so sorry I didn't tell you the moment I found out, but I'm just having trouble coming to terms with the fact that my life with you has barely started and we're already going to have a baby."

And then my voice cracked, and my emotional dam burst along with my willpower.

"Owen, what do we do?" I sobbed, collapsing into his arms.

He caught me and held my fragile body against his for what seemed like a precious eternity, before pulling away and staring deep into my eyes.

"Annabel, I love you so much." I was clutching his shirt in my hand, as though it would pull me closer to him. "And I'm gonna love our kid to the moon and back."

Through wet eyes, I smiled at him. Not a model smile. Not a family-photo smile. The kind of smile where the corners of your mouth are barely turned upwards, but your eyes just say what needs to be said.

"I'm sorry I got mad." He said. "I just thought—"

I silenced him with a soft kiss on the lips, smiling into his mouth as his breath caught in his throat.

"It's okay." I whispered.

Owen ran his fingers through my hair, the cool metal of his rings making me shiver as his hands rested on the back of my neck. He wasn't ever harsh or forceful in the way he touched me, and sometimes it surprised me how a person as large as Owen could be as gentle as he was.

I placed my hands on his chest and we just stayed like that for a while, wrapped in each other and just drinking in the moment, before he finally kissed my cheek and got up.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"Hold on—just give me a sec." His voice was growing farther away as he disappeared down the hall.

I sat back into the warm leather and waited for Owen to return.

When he got back, he walked over to the stereo system, turned off the mournful notes of _Muse,_ and inserted a familiar disk into the slot. Two seconds into the song, I recognized that it was _Thank You._ It was our song.

Owen took a deep breath before kneeling on the ground in front of me.

"I've been wanting to do this for a long time." Owen started. "And since you're so amazing and beautiful and special to me, I figure that now's as good a time as any to..."

He pulled a small, velvety-blue box out of nowhere and held it out to me.

Tears threatened to spill over, but somehow I managed not to cry again and pried the box open with shaky fingers. It was a silver circle, dotted with one large, round diamond sitting perfectly in its center and dotted with smaller diamonds that gleam around the band like stars in the sky.

"Annabel Green, will you marry me?"

The words had barely left his mouth before I'd tackled him in a hug and held him against me. "Of course, Owen."

We stood up together, him taking the ring and sliding it smoothly onto my finger, before lacing his hands into mine and leading me into the center of the room.

He twirled me around, eyes shining, and we danced together, my head against his chest, as Led Zeppelin serenaded us into the morning.


End file.
